


Through the Force You'll Find Me

by RedFive



Category: Hannibal (TV), King Arthur (2004), Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Bad Ending, Character Death, Drug Abuse, Force Ghosts, Grief/Mourning, Hauntings, I'd argue it is a good end, Look the alternative was way worse, M/M, Pre-Rogue One, Queue up some fluff for this one, RedFive standing by to wreck your shit emotionally, Suicidal Thoughts, Yet Still Hopeful, You're going to need it, redemption arc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-01-22 03:56:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12472932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedFive/pseuds/RedFive
Summary: It is a time of terrible strife at the dawn of the Galactic Empire. Pockets of insurgency have risen in almost every system, from Coruscant to the furthest reaches of the Outer Rim. On the planet Orto, former Jedi Knight, Galahad Dulacson struggles to stay one step ahead of the dreaded Darth Vader and his team of assassins while mourning the loss of his friends and companion, Tristan.





	1. Numb

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TigerPrawn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TigerPrawn/gifts).



> Oh my God, where do I begin apologizing to TigerPrawn, who won my Fanniversary giveaway and asked for Tristhad as Jedi Knights. Queue up some fluff for this because you're going to need. 
> 
> Many thanks to [@thez1337](https://thez1337.tumblr.com/) for beta-ing!
> 
> Warning: heed the tags. It's a Bad End but one that's full of love and hope. I know MCD is not everyone's thing, so thanks in advance for taking a chance. I am hella proud of this one and grateful to TigerPrawn for inspiring me to write it.

A long time ago, in a galaxy far far away…

It is a time of terrible strife at the dawn of the Galactic Empire. Pockets of insurgency have risen in almost every system, from Coruscant to the furthest reaches of the Outer Rim.

In the name of peace and order, Emperor Palpatine has installed his Moffs and armies everywhere the light of rebellion still burns in order to quell these uprisings. As system after system falls to the totalitarian state, the survivors whisper of the sad fate of the Jedi, their foregone defenders.

On the planet Orto, former Jedi Knight, Galahad Dulacson struggles to stay one step ahead of the dreaded Darth Vader and his team of assassins while mourning the loss of his friend and companion, Tristan.

…

_Gal, get up. It's time to get up. You’re needed._

The voice that spoke was patient and kind, and it _should_ have been familiar enough with Galahad's mornings moods to know better than to try and wake him before he was ready.

"No.” Galahad groaned and pushed his head underneath his pillow. “Shoo. Go bother someone else.”

_Disobedient, pup, after all all this time have you not learned to come when I call?_

“I came, Tristan, but you were already gone. You were already dead and gon—wait!” Galahad’s eyes flew open in shock when he realized _whose_ voice had woken him. He sat up and drew his blaster with reflexes that would seem extraordinary for any normal human, but Galahad was _not_ an ordinary human.

“Show yourself!” Galahad commanded and swept the room for any sign of the intruder who spoke with the voice of his most cherished. He didn't see anything and he didn't _sense_ anything either, but that wasn't saying much. The death sticks deadened his connection to the Force so much so that he could not skim any information from his environment unless he was in physical contact with an object or being. Useful things the death sticks were—dangerous but useful—and what did he care if they were killing him? He had died long ago on Ryloth, the planet where Tristan fell.

**_Tristan._ **

“How about **_you_** try coming when I call for a change, Hutt-spawn.” Galahad grumbled and holstered his blaster.

There was a loud thump on the thick metal wall of his cabin. “Shut up in there!” his friend Bors, an engineer on the salvage crew, shouted at him from the adjacent cabin.

Before he could stop himself, Galahad had flown at the wall in a rage, hammering it with both fists repeatedly. “YOU FIRST, BORS!!! OR SO HELP ME, I WILL BEAT DOWN THIS WALL AND SHOVE MY BOOT DOWN YOUR THROAT IF IT WILL SHUT YOU UP!” His patience was paper-thin these days, a result of the extended duress and drug use he subjected his mind to daily, but he didn't even have it in him to be embarrassed. Tristan would be appalled by his behavior, appalled and retaliatory so maybe it was a good thing he was dead. 

 _Keep telling yourself that, Sith-stick,_ he scolded himself.

Bors said nothing in response, and when Galahad let up on his pounding, he heard the creak of metal springs as Bors settled back down for the night. 

 _You need to calm down,_ The voice told him using Tristan's voice.

“Shut up,” Galahad sniffled, feeling so full of emotion that tears were beginning to build on his lashes. "It's just my imagination." Or maybe his guilt. He shook his head and breathed deeply to regain his center, but the anger and grief would not leave him. This was dangerous, and not just because anger lead to the dark side of the Force. ANYTHING that lead to to the Force was dangerous for someone like him in these dark times. Vader’s henchmen stalked the galaxy looking for any sign of the fugitive Jedi. All who were caught had died. All except himself that he knew of.

He stood up, walked over to the small sink in his quarters, and removed the flight jacket he wore. Galahad always slept fully dressed in case he needed to move again in the middle of the night, it had happened before. It would happen again. Imperial spies were everywhere and what hope did a lone Jedi have against the might of the Empire?

No hope. None whatsoever.

A metal case sat on the edge of the sink containing five syringes, each filled with a bright green liquid that glowed incandescent in the darkness, which made shooting up in dark alleys or night clubs easy and quick. Galahad tapped a vein and selected a needle.

 _This is not our way._  

“Yeah well our way got you killed, buddy,” Galahad fired back at his conscience and inserted the needle into his skin. He pushed a button and the injector began to pump the poison into the vein. 

“Stoopa! Would you listen to me? Here I am talking to an auditory hallucination like you’re the real deal,” he said and smacked himself on the forehead when he was done shooting up.

 _Gal, I_ **_AM_ ** _here. Turn around._

Galahad looked up into the mirror and gasped at the sight that greeted him. Tristan stood before him, clothed in his Jedi robes and looking like the picture of health except for the ethereal blue glow surrounding him and the translucent sheen to his skin.

“Impossible! You’re dead!” Galahad whipped around and turned too quickly when he confronted the mirage and began to fall. “Blaster bolts!” he cursed when hit the ground _hard._

The drugs he had taken were already having an effect. All five senses were painfully sharp, and his blood burned hotter than the molten core of Coruscant. This was a temporary effect of the drug, which would as promised, bring him to a deathlike state of numbness and relative peace in a few short moments.The death sticks didn't just deaden his connection to the Force. They robbed him of everything that made him strong and virtuous. They robbed him of what made him a Jedi—of everything that made him unique—but that’s what kept him alive (if you could call it living).

Galahad looked up. The image of Tristan was fading as the drug ravaged his body and mind. “Just a side effect,” Galahad mumbled as he crawled across the floor on all fours towards his bunk. “Nothing but a side effect. He’s dead.  He’s dead and gone forever,” and nothing else mattered.

…

The _Caliburn_ , the ship Galahad had signed onto after the Clone Wars and the collapse of the Jedi Order, made landfall at Orto, home world of the Ortolan’s, to sell off their cargo. As far as exile went, it was a pretty sweet gig. The job kept Galahad on the move constantly, paid enough to keep him high most of the time, and was almost entirely illegal so there was no chance of the _Caliburn_ going ANYWHERE near a Core World.

Galahad worked on the salvage crew and was a particularly adept Finder because of his Force abilities, limited as they were. Even if the death sticks deadened most of his abilities, he could still sense things if he were in physical contact with the salvaged ship. There was no quantity of drugs that would be able to cut him off from the Force completely without killing him, so Galahad chose to make the most out of what little remained to him in this life. With his gift, he had made himself too valuable to fire despite his obvious drug addiction. And the best perk? For being the boss’s favorite, he got unrestricted shore leave—which was particularly useful today since he needed to resupply and the _Caliburn_ was headed for the Mid-Rim where illegal substances were harder to purchase. He was on his way to the seediest, dankest, and most inhospitable cantina on the whole of Orto when the child ran into him. 

Galahad sensed immediately that his pockets were lighter. He whirled around, catching the thief by the arm, but as soon as he laid his hand on them a terrible shock coursed through his body. 

Visions rolled in on the strange electric current, visions from his past with Tristan: their first mission, their first crash landing, their first fight, and of course _their first forbidden kiss._ Galahad stood stock still even after the memories had faded and the thief had disappear into the crowd.

What...

...the Sith…

...was THAT!?!

Galahad bolted the direction he'd last seen the thief, already feeling nauseous after ten steps because of the drugs he had taken earlier. But despite his stoned and graceless state, Galahad was still Jedi and trained by the great Jedi Masters Yoda and Tyvokka. No street urchin was going to outrun him today!

He eventually caught up to the thief after he or she took a wrong turn and boxed themselves into a dead end at the end of an alley. 

“Let me go! Let me go!” The _girl_ kicked and hollered. She was older than he had originally guessed and a teenager, and she fought with the ferocity of of a wild gundark.

“I’ll let you go straight to the authorities if you don't settle down!” he shouted back. “I'm not going to hurt you. I don't even need the money back if that's what it'll take to get you to cooperate,” he said and pushed her up against the wall more roughly than he intended. But she was a fighter in body and spirit, and it was taking a considerable amount of strength to hold her hostage.

“PERVERT!” she screamed and kicked Galahad square in the nuts. 

Galahad bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, and by some miracle managed to hang on. **_Thank you, death sticks._ ** Having that higher pain tolerance was certainly handy sometimes.

“I'm not trying to assault you. Calm down. Look, look here. Do you know what this is?” He asked and pulled the right side of his jacket back so she could see the lightsaber holstered there safely out of sight.

The girl grew still and nodded.

“And do you understand what it means?”

She nodded again but seemed less certain, judging from the worried look in her eyes that shifted in focus between Galahad’s face and his blade. 

“Good then you understand that I'm trusting you with my life. I **_HAVE_ ** to trust you. With this knowledge you could do anything you want to me. You could have me killed. I am alone and there is a garrison of Stormtroopers here on this planet. Now, if I let go, will you promise not to run away? I just want to ask you some questions and _only you can help me._ ”

“Okay,” she said and laid a fist over her heart like she was clutching something beneath her shirt.

He could have been lying. He could have purchased the lightsaber on the black market. There were plenty of dead Jedi who had left their weapons behind. But the girl was willing to trust him, which meant she probably has some connection to the Jedi as he suspected.

Galahad let go and stepped back two paces so the girl might feel less trapped and thus more cooperative. “What is your name?”

“Tisha Baric”

Galahad smirked. “That is a lie, _Tisha._ ” True that he was no longer touching her and so couldn't know for certain, but he didn't need his Force abilities to know the girl was lying. “The Jedi have no tolerance for liars.” The Jedi had no tolerance at all, truth be told. Discipline and righteousness guided their every action and left no room for frivolity, abstract thought, or love. At one time, Galahad had been one of the best among them until he’d gotten caught up with that venerated old nut job Tristan. 

 _Old?_ he imagined Tristan saying in the same tone that had always warned Galahad when he was approaching the line that would stress even Tristan's patient nature. Of course apologizing had always been the easiest part of their relationship, and if Tristan were here, then Galahad would have grabbed him by the braids and kissed him on the street with no warning. Public displays of affection, while dangerous for two Jedi, never failed to flip Tristan's moods.

If he were here…

 ** _But you’re not here,_** Galahad thought to the metaphorical ghost that was haunting him. 

“I'll ask again, girl. What Is your name? I'm Gal.”

“Jyn,” she said hesitating momentarily before answering.

“It is my honor to meet you, Jyn. Now, I'm going to touch you, just your hand,” he quickly added when she bristled. “I want to make sure that I didn't hurt you before I let you run off with my money. Sound fair?” It was a lie of course. In his exile, Galahad had learned how to lie now that he was no longer **_exactly_ ** a Jedi. And sometimes lies were necessary.

He wanted to get a true reading off the girl, confirm her apparent sincerity. There was always the possibility that she was an Imperial Spy looking to prey upon the feeble compassion of the remaining rogue Jedi. Galahad would not put it past Palpatine or that despicable lackey of his, Darth Vader, to employ children to do their dirty work. The Jedi would never kill children after all. But was that true?

“I would...now that I’m this. What do I care?” Galahad muttered to himself and dropped his eyes to the ground in embarrassment when he saw Jyn’s questioning look.

_You would not. You were always more tender-hearted than you gave yourself credit for, Gal. That is why this hurts so much._

“Gal?” Jyn asked. She sounded shockingly calm for one so young and in the company of a drugged-out fugitive of the highest order.

“Sorry. Lost in thought,” he said and smiled at her to set her mind at ease. _Or maybe just lost._ Galahad stepped forward and gently placed two fingers on the back of her hand which still clutched at her chest.

...

_In the past, Galahad stood bare chested in front of the mirror in Tristan's apartment on Coruscant trimming his beard back._

_“You spend an awful lot of time manicuring a style that is meant to make you look rugged and unconcerned,” Tristan pointed out from the bed where he loafed on his third apple of the morning. “Why don't you just shave it off?”_  

_“Because then I’d look like your Padawan,” Galahad quipped back. “And you wouldn't want that.”_

_“You’re not young enough to have been my Padawan.”_

_“Only by about three years.”_

  _The apple core arrived at lightspeed and struck with the force of a highly-trained and very annoyed Jedi Master._

_“Ow! Geez! That hurt!”_

_“Imagine my surprise,” Tristan said and reached for another apple, a whole one this time._

_“I was only being honest. You can't be mad at me for that.” Except that he_ **_could_ ** _and_ **_would_ ** _. It was as inevitable as the rain on Edu. Only Tristan ever got mad about Galahad’s unrelenting honesty, which among the rest of the Jedi Order was widely lauded. But Tristan was an oddity among Jedi, less rigid and far more accepting of his emotions—both the good and bad._

_“Come back to bed, and leave your honesty in the sink. The transport will be here soon to take us to the spaceport and then to Ryloth. I would like to spend those hours in peace. There will be enough fighting where we are going.”_

_“I wish I could go with you.”_

_“Hah! Impossible. You have all the grace of a drunk gundark, pup. Your place is with the infantry.”_

_Galahad could not argue with that. He was a combat pro and ill-suited to scout work. Whereas prior to the Clone Wars, Tristan had been a Seeker—a Jedi whose job it was to find Force sensitive children and bring them to the Jedi Temple for training like Master Plo Koon who had plucked an infant Galahad from the red light district on Coruscant._

_“How will I find you?” he asked as he climbed back into bed and onto Tristan's lap._

_“Through the Force you will always find me, my love.”_

_…_

Galahad blinked and then Tristan was gone. His apartment was gone. Coruscant was gone. Everything...just gone. In the present, he knelt on the ground sobbing in front of Jyn.

**_‘Through the Force you’ll find me.’ What a load of garbage!_ **

Or was it?

The hallucinations from this morning became more troubling since this vision, which was undoubtedly a sending from the living Force. By what did it mean?

In the end, stubbornness won out over curiosity and Galahad grew determined to scrub them from his mind. What was dead was gone, and there was no bringing it back.

“You know him,” he said to Jyn. “How do you know him?

“Who?”

“Tristan,” Galahad said and sunk even lower to the ground. “He was a Jedi Knight and...he was my friend.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

Galahad wiped away his tears and nodded. “You don't ask if he is dead or not. You don’t ask what happened to the Jedi because you know, don’t you?”

There was a long stretch of silence that could have encompassed the whole planet. Then Jyn moved and drew the the object she'd been clutching from beneath her jacket. It was a crystal, tied to a leather cord. The rough cut of the crystal suggested that it had been cut by hand, and it pulsed in Galahad’s mind's eye with an inner light that could be felt but not seen.

“Kyber,” Galahad breathed in awe. And not just any kyber crystal. The cut of the stone left no room for interpretation. This crystal had belonged to the core of a Jedi lightsaber. He held his hand out to receive it, and hoped he would not be forced to take it from her. “Where did you get it?”

“It was given to my father by the man who murdered my mother,” Jyn spat. “I hate him!”

 _Who was your father?_ Galahad wanted to ask, but restrained himself by saying “Who was the man?” instead.

“An imperial officer. My father knew him. That's all I remember.”

“Do you remember why he gave your father this... _gift,”_ Galahad grunted feeling increasingly ill, and this time he could not blame the drugs for the cause of his nausea. If the man who gave Jyn’s father this lightsaber core was in the Imperial Army, it had likely been a souvenir from the battlefield. To think that Tristan's lightsaber—and Galahad was certain that the kyber crystal had belonged to his lost love—had met with such a sad fate was almost unbearable. _I should have looked for the blade after he fell. I should have taken it with me!_ he scolded himself.

 _If wishes were apples, you and I would be very happy indeed,_ the phantom voice said again.

 **_Wishes are for fools!_ ** Galahad shouted back but received no response from the auditory hallucination.

“My father was a scientist. He had a lot of crystals like these, larger ones too. But this one was special. My mother always said it... _sang_ to her.”

“Does it sing to you?” Galahad asked, wondering if Jyn was Force sensitive as he assumed her mother had been if she could hear the kyber ‘speaking’ to her.

“I don't know. I don't think so, but for some reason, I want you to have it. My mother told me never to take it off, and yet, I want you to have it. It feels important. She also told me to trust the Force too, so I guess, maybe?" 

Galahad wrapped his hand around the kyber crystal and felt it warm in his hand in greeting. They were remarkable objects, the kyber crystals. No one had ever been sure whether they possessed rudimentary sentience or if the feelings and strange behaviors sometimes sensed within the crystals were the living Force flowing through them. They were priceless objects found only on a few worlds, which were fiercely protected by the Jedi. It was rare to touch a naked kyber crystal, and rarer still to find one in the possession of someone outside of the Order.

“Thank you, Jyn. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Is there anything I can do for you? I owe you a debt I can never repay.”

Jyn smirked. “Well, since you mentioned it, I am a little short on…”

“There she is officer! That's the one! She's been hanging around the market place for a few days now, stealing from my customers.” 

“You there, stand aside. We’re arresting this child for theft and disturbing the peace,”  said the gravelly voice of a Stormtrooper. “And you! Girl! Hands in the air where we can see them!”

Jyn looked at Galahad, her request was quite clear. _Help me._

“How many?” Galahad mouthed silently while his back was still turned to the shopkeeper and the Imperial troopers.

Jyn flashed two fingers before slowly raising her hands above her head.

Galahads hands flew to his blaster as he whirled around. The Stormtroopers got off only one shot before the pair of them went down. Meanwhile, the shopkeeper was halfway down the alley already screaming in terror. Galahad raised his blaster again and fired. 

“We should get moving. It won't be long before the bodies are found and someone will remember that you were harassing that shopkeeper’s customers.”

Jyn hesitated. “You killed him! You could have let him go, but you didn't. He couldn't have hurt us.” 

“He’d have raised the garrison and the Imperials would now have both of our descriptions. Put it out of your mind.”

But Jyn remained intractable and continued to stare at the man whom Galahad had shot in the back in cold blood.

“Jyn, it's only a problem if you look down. A lot of sorrows can be born by looking at them from a different point of view,” he explained patiently and held out his hand.

“The Jedi are really dead, aren’t they?” she said as she stepped over the bodies of the soldiers without assistance.

The reproach burned like hot oil, and not even his high could protect him from the shame of it. “No, not dead, Jyn, just dying. Come along. These streets are not safe for either of us.”


	2. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Galahad makes a startling discovery about Jyn's father and weighs his options.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta read by [@thel337](https://thez1337.tumblr.com/)

“To market to market to buy a fat pig, so tell me, Gal, JUST WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED!?”

He had brought Jyn directly to Bors after sneaking her onboard the  _ Caliburn _ . Despite being a generally unpleasant fellow, Bors had six children of his own back on Grange, an agricultural planet in the Rocantor sector, which as luck would have it was the homeworld of Jyn’s father, Galen. It was enough commonality to endear him to the child, and Galahad would require his help in smuggling Jyn off-world.

“Stormtroopers were after her. What would you have me do?”

Bors made a face. “Depends. What did she do first?”

“I'm right here you know? Anyone feel like asking me? I’m young but I'm not mute.” Jyn snapped and crossed her arms over her chest.

That made Bors chuckle. “Are you now? Fine, what did  _ you _ do, girl?”

“I picked the pockets of a few people who looked like they could afford it or who were too easy to resist. That's all, I swear.”

“Which one was our dear Gal?”

“The later of course.”

Bors howled with laughter to Galahad’s consternation. But if suffering through a little teasing was what it took to win Bor’s trust, so be it. He had suffered far worse in the Order, particularly at Tristan’s hands. Galahad’s doll-like looks had always given him grief—hence the beard until he'd been forced to shave it off after he went into hiding.

“Let that be a lesson to you, never trust an innocent face.”

“I'll remember that,” Jyn said with a wry and understanding smile.

“Enough of this. What do you say, Bors? Can you help us?”

Bors leaned back in his chair and scratched his belly as he weighed his options. “Does she have any skills?”

“I can fight!” Jyn said proudly and rose to her feet.

“Everyone can fight. This is the Outer Rim where law and order are spoken of only in whispers.” What I mean to say is how can you make yourself useful, to me, specifically?”

“Always thinking of yourself, Bors.” Galahad said growing testy, but that might just be because he was due for his next death stick soon. He felt warmer than he had any right to be , and more angry.

“Me!?! I'm thinking of all three of us, you fool. I'm of a mind to introduce her as my layabout niece sent to me to have some sense knocked into her. The Force knows I have enough distant relatives to sell the story. But she’s got to be able to pull her own weight around here or they'll pitch her off at the next spaceport, kin or not.”

“I can fix speeders, and I'm a decent cook but better with engines,” Jyn said.

Bors clapped his hands and rubbed his palms together. “Now that's what I'm talking about! Knowing how to earn your way in life is a far more valuable skill than knowing how to hold a gun.”

Galahad snorted. “This from the best marksman on the crew.”

“Second best. You pull your punches, Gal. Don't try to deny it.”

“Are you calling me a liar? I don't pull my punches,” Galahad said and cracked his knuckles. He'd never been good at tolerating attacks on his honesty even if his record was less than sterling of late. Bors was wrong though. Galahad always  _ tried _ his best when he and Bors competed, but the death sticks made him sluggish. And while his training and abilities made him a naturally better shot than most humans, he was no match for Bors as he was now. He probably couldn't even wield his lightsaber without cutting off his own foot.

“Whatever you say, Gal. Anyway, the point is, the girl can stay with me if that's alright with you both.”

Jyn and Galahad both nodded.

“Great! Then come along, err, Kaia. I thinks that's the name of my sister’s youngest.” Bors said , standing.

“You mean you don't know your own niece’s name?” Jyn asked.

Bors grabbed his thighs and laughed. “Are you kidding? With a family as large as mine, it's lucky I even know she has a daughter.”

“That must be nice. Having a big family, I mean.”

The cabin grew quiet as they reflected on those words. Each individual was an orphan in a sense, although Bors’s family was still alive as far as anyone knew, they lived on the other side of the galaxy while he worked among the stars to provide a living for them. Maybe that is why the Force had brought them all together being equal partners in grief and isolation.

“Yeah, well, it’ll be nicer to see them again. You hungry,  _ Kaia _ ?”

“I can always eat.”

“Then let's get us get some grub and make a few introductions. It would be a good idea to let the crew see us together acting like family in case more Imperials show up and start asking questions about a female thief. You coming, Gal?”

“Later,” Galahad said. “I want to check the local channels to see if news of those bodies we dropped has hit yet. Save me some pie if there is any left?”

“If there is any left, I'm eating it all. See ya later.”

With Jyn and Bors gone, Galahad was free to return to his cabin and do a bit of research in private. He had a first name and a homeworld now, but Jyn had not been tremendously forthcoming with any information that would explain why her father had been in possession of a stolen lightsaber core. Had the man who had given Galen the crystal been the one who killed Tristan? Or had he merely given the order?

Galahad hadn't been with the main group when the fighting occurred. He’d split off to go reunite with Tristan after the ground forces landed safely. Unfortunately, Tristan had had the same idea, which was the only reason he was even with the rest of the Infantry when the Clone Troopers turned on their commanders. By the time Galahad learned about the ambush, it was too late. Tristan was dead alongside their friends and students.

If this Imperial Officer was somehow involved, Galahad swore to make him pay, the Dark Side be damned. Revenge wouldn't bring Tristan back to life, but it sure as hell would make Galahad feel a whole lot better, and after a life of altruistic self-sacrifice that had been forced upon him as an infant, didn't he DESERVE a little happiness? Oh course he did! Any reasonable person would feel that way. 

_ We are not ordinary men. We cannot live as they do. The collateral damage— _ could blast off for all that Galahad cared!

He was not sure whether it was his grief or the drugs stoking the anger in his heart. Jedi were taught from a very young age that with their abilities came a responsibility to protect the weak and disadvantaged. As a youth, Galahad had needed nothing more than that noble purpose to be happy until Tristan had come along and showed him another way.

“If you thought it was so risky, you shouldn't have made me fall in love with you, laserbrain.” Galahad grumbled as he continued to click through articles on his data pad about Jyn's father who , as it turned out , was quite famous , if something of a recluse. There weren't even any pictures of the man.

A simple search of Galen + Grange brought up only one result: famous scientist Galen Erso. He was a rags to riches story, the farmboy turned mathematical protégé of much renown until the day that he suddenly disappeared from academic circles without a trace. That in itself was not unusual, which spoke to the sorry state of the galaxy. Many scientists and politicians had vanished at the time of Palpatine’s ascension to power or died during subsequent insurgency by “Jedi assassins,” according to state media. The unusual and worrying part of Galen’s story was **_what_** he had been researching at the time. Before going off the grid, Galen had been experimenting on synthetic crystals in pursuit of a clean and affordable energy source—synthetic crystals not kybers, which had an energy yield ten times greater than anything Galen might have manufactured in his labs. Had Galen traded his soul for the raw materials he had so long desired now that the Empire had a limitless supply of Jedi crystals?

**_Jyn wouldn't think so._ **

The words had the same intonation and accent as his own. Galahad blinked, surprised that the thought had been his. He had no reason to trust the girl and every reason to think her a liar. Yet he sensed that she loved her father and believed he had done whatever had been required of him in service of a higher cause.

_ See. You’re not so cynical that you can’t be saved. _

“Shut. Up.” Galahad grumbled speaking to the voice of his lost love who was as chatty and annoying in death as he had been in life. Galahad fumbled in his pocket until his fingers closed around the lightsaber core and gave it a good squeeze. He imagined himself choking Tristan, yet the kyber crystal lay cold and lifeless in his fingers , ignoring him.

Galahad continued flicking through articles on Galen and froze when an image finally surfaced.

“It... **_can't_ ** be. Tristan?”

The man had Tristan's high cheekbones and almond shaped eyes. He was older than Tristan had been at the time of his death, and his hair lay neater than Tristan's ever had , although only barely. However, the same light of mercy and passion shone brightly in both of their eyes. Galahad felt his resolve to believe the worst of the man weakening. Could anyone who loved his work like that have raised a spirited child like Jyn , or become a common grave robber for the Empire?

The photo was attached to a reward notice, now invalid, and dated at the time of Galen’s disappearance from the public eye. There was still an active reward on offer for information leading to the capture of the daughter, Jyn Erso. That suggested that Galen was alive and the Empire was searching for leverage on him. 

Galen, by by all accounts, had been a pacifist. But to save his daughter, would he compromise those beliefs and weaponize his research for the Empire? Galahad was positive that's what Palpatine wanted out of him. Lightsabers were only as powerful as they were because they contained hearts of kyber. If Galen could engineer a way for non-Force users to tap into that power and manufacture it for mass production, any hope of rebellion was doomed.

Unfortunately, in bringing her to the  _ Caliburn, _ Galahad had all but giftwrapped the girl for Palpatine. The ship was about to launch on an extended tour of the Mid-Rim worlds where communication was better, loyalty to the Empire higher, and the chance of discovery almost a certainty.

If Tristan were here, he’d want to help Jyn.

**_But you’re not are you? No matter what my mind tells me, you’re NOT here._ **

Faintly, he felt Tristan’s lightsaber core stir, but Galahad closed his mind to its whisperings. The kyber was just a stupid rock. Tristan was dead. Galahad was alone, and—

_ You are her only hope, Gal. _

Galahad tore himself out of his seat, drew his lightsaber, and let the green blade flare to life.

“FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE, WILL YOU LEAVE ME ALONE, YOU OLD MEDDLER! LEAVE ME ALONE AND LET ME DIE ALREADY!” he shouted at the empty air.

The green glow of his lightsaber filled every inch of the small cabin while Galahad stood and waited for a rebuke that never came.

He’d never said it aloud before, his secret shame. His grief was so great that...he simply wished to die. 

It was as silent as the grave in that room, silent as Tristan's grave and the now empty Jedi temples. 

Galahad switched off his lightsaber and tossed it  onto his bed in disgust. He sat down again in front of the image of Galen, and thought about the daughter of the missing scientist to distract himself from the emotional wound he’d reopened. There were rumors that Rodia was a hotbed for the Rebels. If he were able to deliver Jyn there safely, perhaps she might find sanctuary there.

**_Or perhaps they’ll use her against her father just like the Empire intends to._ **

Better them than Palpatine though. The Rebels might not be perfect. They were young and immature and spoke with too many voices, but their hearts were in the right place.

But there was one more problem, and it was a big one.

Galahad held up his left hand, which had already begun to tremble. It had been hours since his last death stick and his body was craving another hit. In another hour, if he did not feed his addiction, the muscles in his hand and limbs would knot up so thoroughly he wouldn't be able to hold a lightsaber or blaster let alone protect Jyn. Galahad thought about the market and the two Stormtroopers who had gotten the jump on them. In his prime, he never would have allowed that to happen. It was an embarrassment. The man he was now was useless to her. No, worse than useless, he was a liability. 

He looked at Galen’s picture again. “Your mother was a rancor, you dirty, double-crossing old wizard,” he said pretending he was talking to Tristan. “I hate you and your stupid face.”

Galahad’s next steps would not be pleasant. If he was going to do this, he better explain it to Bors. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you would like to help boost the signal, here are the links to the [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Red5WritingBy/status/934418270937067522) and [Tumblr](http://redfivewritingby.tumblr.com/post/167867116302/through-the-force-youll-find-me-chp-2-by) posts.
> 
> Sorry about missing last Sunday's update. It's been a rough two weeks at the office and unfortunately there is no end in sight. So until December 13th when I'm officially on vacation, I'll shoot for one update a week, but I'm not quite sure what day that update will be.


	3. Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Galahad has a big favor to ask, and Bors has a surprise of his own for the former Jedi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the disappearing act. December got quite a bit ahead of me. But keep your fingers crossed for me because if I worked hard enough, I'm up for a promotion! 
> 
> Beta read by [@the1337](https://thez1337.tumblr.com/).

Bors scratched his head , clearly puzzled. “Don't get me wrong, I'm happy you’ve decided to get clean. Those death sticks are some bad business, Gal, but, you can't just quit, not with the way you've been using.”

Galahad nodded, holding his remaining stash in his hand with a vice grip. “I know. That's why I need your help. I won't be able to wean myself off of them alone. I'm not strong enough.”

“It's not matter of strength. It's a matter of biology. Not even the most powerful Jedi have the mental strength to cure themselves of a death stick addiction.”

Galahad bit the side of his cheek. That was an odd way to phrase it. Did Bors know? No, impossible. Impossible! Probably impossible? Unless Galahad had implied something on accident while drinking with Bors, which was a strong possibility, because another symptom of the death sticks was that it made him something of a lightweight.

_ You were always a lightweight. _

**_Shut. Up._ ** Galahad scolded himself. Blaster bolts, these auditory hallucinations were getting really obnoxious.

“You’ll have to come off of them slowly. I'll administer all your doses from now on. Give it here, lad.”

He heard Bors clearly and understood the command, but there was an undeniable delay before he relinquished the drugs to his friend.

“Gal, you promise me that you’re serious about this right? I won't sugar coat it—that wouldn't do you any good—it’s going to be bad, real bad. Imagine the worst pain in your life.”

The image of Tristan lying dead in a heap on the fields of Ryloth flashed before Galahad’s eyes. “I can imagine quite a bit.” 

“Well double it. You’ll be asking me to kill you before this is through so if you want to back out now: here’s your chance. I won't give you another until you’re sober.”

“I'll be fine, Bors. This is important,” Galahad said and for just a moment, he thought he saw a flicker of pale blue in his periphery, but it vanished when he turned to look.

Bors stood and slid the bag of drugs into his vest. “When was your last dose?”

Galahad blushed. “An hour before you got here. I wanted one for the road, a small one.”

Bors sighed and put his fists behind his back, likely to keep himself from throttling Galahad.

“Can I ask you a question?” Bors said.

“Sure. I owe you one.”

“You owe me more than that, lad, but we'll start with my question. Why? Why now? You’ve been a heavy user since I met you. Does this decision to get clean have anything to do with the girl?”

“The Empire wants her. That's good enough for me.”

“Hell of a place to bring her if she's got a bounty on her head. The Mid-Rim is no place for a fugitive.”

**_Don't I know it._ ** Galahad thought and stroked his clean-shaven cheeks, missing his beard but knowing it was too risky otherwise. The beard would make him undeniably recognizable on world's he had visited when he served the Jedi Order.

“The Rebels are gathering on Rodia. I intend to deliver her to them assuming we’re all still alive. The  _ Caliburn  _ will stop there by season’s end.”

Bors nodded along. “A good plan. Not a great plan, but in these troubled times, even a good plan is hard to come by. It surprises me though, this new found purity I see in you. This wouldn't have anything to do with that piece you keep hidden in your jacket would it?”

Galahad visibly flinched. The lightsaber. Bors knew about the lightsaber. “You...know?”

“Of course I do! Do you have any idea how much you talk in your sleep...Jedi?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this fic, please help boost the signal on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Red5WritingBy/status/945744854134517760) and [Tumblr](http://redfivewritingby.tumblr.com/post/168969487952/through-the-force-youll-find-me-chp-3). Thanks a bunch!


	4. Choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Restored in strength and spirit, Galahad wakes up to the voice of his beloved beside him. But their reunion is not without pain when Tristan delivers a terrible warning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta read by @the1337.

The kyber crystal warmed against his chest rousing Galahad gently from a deep and restful sleep.

_ “Gal, get up. It's time to get up. You’re needed.” _

They were the same words spoken to him weeks ago, but back then, his mind and heart had been closed to them, closed to everything good that was left in his life. Now, after many weeks of bone bruising recovery and close calls with Imperials, he had become a different man.

Galahad was no longer the Jedi he once was. His loss of innocence could never be mended. But the unconditional support given to him by Bors and Jyn had given him a new lease on life and something to fight for. So when the call came again that morning, he did not turn away this time.  

Galahad opened his eyes slowly and found Tristan sitting at the foot of his bed.

Tristan was as much changed as he was, although in Tristan's case those changes were all physical. For one thing, he was as blue as the blade of his lightsaber had been and his skin transparent. A ghost, Galahad would have call him, but ghosts were dead things and he could still feel Tristan’s spirit through the Force.

“It's you. It really is you. I haven't been imagining it. But how? And why are you here?”

_ “You were always impatient, pup, asking multiple questions when I can give only one answer at a time.”  _ Tristan said no longer speaking directly to Galahad’s mind.

This was the first time since the morning he’d glimpsed Tristan's ghost in the mirror that his lover’s spirit had materialized before him, and Galahad was brimming with questions. But trust Tristan to be Tristan even in death. He had always been woefully pragmatic and unexcitable except where food was involved.

“How? Start there. I saw your body on Ryloth even if I did not see you die. How are you here?”

_ “It is a trick that some among us have learned in our final hours—a way of communing with the Force at the moment of death to achieve complete totality of being.” _

“Huh?” 

Tristan rubbed the bridge of his nose like he had a headache. Did ghosts get headaches or was it merely a phantom pain remembered from life? Galahad’s curiosity was firing at lightspeed, but he filed that question away at the bottom of the list.

_ “I am one with the Force, Gal, and through the Force I have been brought here to guide you.” _

“Why? Surely there are others in greater need. I don't know if you’ve noticed, but I kinda made a mess of my life without you.”

Tristan smiled broadly, and it broke Galahad’s heart anew. It shamed him that Tristan should see him in this fallen state. 

_ “My sweet Gal…when offered the chance to see your lost love again, you would send him away to help others in greater need? You have made mistakes, but you have never lost your nobility of spirit, my love. It has always been with you just as I have always been with you.” _

“But you didn't come back just to be my sponsor? It can't be coincidence that you showed up the day I met Jyn.”

This statement made Tristan's smile fall away.

_ “Correct. It was not coincidence, although this next part may be hard for you to hear.” _

“I’m ready.”

_ “You are ready—in more ways that you even realize—you are ready.” _

Tristan stood up and fussed with his robes until they lay flat because apparently gravity and too much corn starch was still something Force Ghosts had to deal with. 

_ “As I lay dying on the fields of Ryloth, I received a powerful vision of the future. In it, you were on the run with a young girl who would one day carry the hope of the galaxy on her shoulders.” _

“Jyn.”

Tristan nodded. _“That girl must not fall into the Empire’s hands. She has a vital role to play in the years ahead. I knew that I had to reach you, to warn you not to let your grief consume you with my passing as it did Obi Wan’s apprentice.”_

Galahad gasped. “ANAKIN!? What happened to Anakin?!”

_ “Something terrible. You would not recognize your friend, Gal. Please, put it out of your mind. Such knowledge will not help you in the hours ahead.” _

**_Anakin._ ** Galahad had not seen his friend in many years and had assumed he'd died in the purge. “What’s so special about today?”

_ “Today you will be given a choice. You must choose how to live. I cannot tell you more.” _

_ “ _ Helpful.”

_ “Don't be so salty. This may be the last time we speak. If you decide as I hope you will, you will have no more need of me.” _

Galahad's hands flew to the crystal that hung around his neck and clutched it tightly. “How can you say that? I need you! I’ll always need you! I love you Tristan.”

_ “I know, my love. While I cannot stay in your world as I am now for very long, understand that I have never left your side.” _

“Don't go.”

_ “I must.” _

True to his word, Tristan's ethereal form already looked thinner than it had minute ago.

_ “ _ How will I find you again?” Galahad pleaded as Tristan faded away from sight. His presence yet lingered but even that grew fainter with each passing second.

_ Through the Force you will always find me, Gal. _

“Yeah, that's what you always say, half-wit,” Galahad said bemused. Tristan was gone again, but it was hard not to feel cheerful having  **_seen_ ** him again. He’d never thought he'd have another chance.

Galahad left his cabin to go find Jyn, determined to depart before the last of Tristan's spirit had faded from his senses.

...

“Gal, you and Jyn have got to get off ship!” Bors said, storming into one of the engine rooms. “There’s an Imperial officer here with your descriptions asking to be let onboard, and she’s got a unit of Stormtroopers at her heels.”

It was fortunate that much of the crew were still at breakfast except for the early risers like Galahad and Jyn.

“Blast! Any chance the Captain could be convinced to hide us?”

“None. He’s collecting the reward on you two as we speak. But come with me. I have an idea. Quickly! Quickly!”

They followed Bors to the cargo bay, through side corridors and hidden passageways used by the crew to shuttle all the illegal contraband they snuck through customs alongside the  _ Caliburn’s _ legitimate exports.

“Here we are, your highnesses,” Bors said as he tapped the sides of two cargo boxes. “Give me just a moment to saddle your horses.”

“What's your plan?” Galahad asked.

“Easy. We ship you two out with the 'speeder parts.'”

“Impossible! We’d never make it,” Jyn cut in. “They’ll know there are two lifeforms inside when they scan the crates.”

“Not these crates, girl,” Bors winked and with all the flare of a Core World entertainer, he lifted back the lid on one of the crates. Inside lay scores of weapons chips, Imperial in design but surely wiped clean of any traceable information. “These are  _ special  _ crates. They’ll show only what's on the manifest and nothing more. 'Sides, you gotta figure someone onboard was paying someone else a handsome bribe to see these two crates safely offboard. You’ll get off this ship alright.”

“And afterwards? What if we're delivered to the Hutts, Bors? What then?” Galahad pointed out, and not  **_just_ ** because he didn't like small spaces.

“That's your problem, Jedi. I didn't spend weeks washing the vomit out of your hair till you got clean for nothing did I?”

Galahad touched the side of his jacket where his lightsaber lay nestled. “No, you did not.”

“Good, then get in, you two. Ladies first.”

Jyn caught Bors by surprise when she hugged him. “You’re a good man.”

“And you’re a good kid, Jyn, like my own niece is.” Bors heisted and looked guiltily at Galahad. “Gal says you've got some big important destiny, but I don't know. You seem like a kid to me.”

**_What are you about, Bors?_ ** Galahad thought to himself and wondered if he shout intercede. 

“Look after yourself, Jyn. Destiny don't mean much to a dead woman. If there’s trouble, you run. Gal can take care of himself, but you, you run and don't stop for anything. The Empire is—”

“—only a problem if you look up. I know. Gal taught me that,” Jyn said.

Yeah, well, 'Gal' would do anything to unteach her that now, knowing what he did about the future. Jyn had a destiny! She had to be delivered to the Rebels! But what if she didn't want to help now that he had ruined her with his cynicism?

_ Be at peace, pup. Everyone must choose their own destiny. It cannot be decided for them...but I like your enthusiasm, _ Tristan added. 

**_Shut up, old man._ **

Bors ignored Galahad until Jyn was safely tucked away in a crate. Then he rounded on him with the blush of anger on his cheeks.  “I agreed to help you, Gal, but I don't have to like it. That's a little girl in there, and you’re all trying to weaponize her: the Empire, the Rebels, even you...Jedi.”

“Bors…I,” Galahad didn't know what to say. He hadn't realized Bors and Jyn had grown so close. “I'll protect her, with my life if I have to, I promise.”

“Look, I'm glad to see you pull yourself out of the grave, but don't lose the humanity you acquired while you were dead. The Jedi are gone because they were blind and callous. Don't you go back to that. Become something better and pass on what you’ve learned.”

_ I like him.  _

**_Tristan…_ **

_ Shut up, yes, yes. I've got it. _

“When did you get so wise, you ol’philosopher?”

Bors barked out a laugh loud enough to be heard from the bridge. “I'm a father of six with a seventh on the way. You learn a thing or two.”

Galahad climbed into his crate and made sure his lightsaber and blaster were accessible. “Well, thank you, my friend...for everything.”

The two men looked at each other for the last time. It would never be safe for Galahad to return to the  _ Caliburn _ now that the Empire knew he was alive and had connections to the crew there. It was a sad, silent goodbye, and it ended too soon.

As Bors closed up the crate, Galahad heard him whisper words he had not heard in many cycles and might never hear again if today went poorly. “May the Force be with you, Gal.”

Galahad was too choked up to respond, but through the Force, the gift Bors had given back to him, Galahad felt that Bors had understood.


	5. Vader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With no where else to run, Galahad faces off against Emperor Palpatine's dreaded assassin...Darth Vader.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THAT'S RIGHT! Please welcome to the stage DARTH FUCKING VADER! Whee! Get excited!
> 
> Many thanks to [@thez1337](https://thez1337.tumblr.com) for the beta reading! <3

Galahad stretched out with his senses trying to get a bearing on where he and Jyn were heading, after having left the spaceport.

East. They were headed east towards the jungle.

He didn't want to wait until they reached their destination to make their escape. Who knew how many guns were waiting for them because this was surely a smuggling run. But he didn't want to pop out of his crate, lightsaber blazing for all the world to see either. Might as well turn himself over to the Empire.

So Galahad waited like the good Jedi that he was…

...the good Jedi he **_used_ ** to be…

...and maybe, with time, the good Jedi he would be again.

It was quieter wherever they were, less filled with lifeforms than the area surrounding the spaceport in the business district. A residential area perhaps? Or maybe they had made it as far as the black market already.

Regardless, when he felt the transport slow to stop and heard the driver tell his partner he wanted to pop in for a drink, Galahad felt a tremor in the Force. The time had come.

When the guards drifted beyond the range of his abilities, Galahad switched on his lightsaber and cut himself free of the box. He popped open Jyn’s crate next and offered to carry her if her legs were too stiff from their indelicate mode of travel.

“You have got to be kidding me?” She spat. “I'm not a child. I can take care of myself.”

Galahad did not doubt that. Jyn had proven to be an excellent student onboard the _Caliburn_ and a resourceful mechanic and fighter in her own right. No, she was not a helpless child, and maybe in a few years she'd grow up be able to outwit the whole Empire. Perhaps that was the destiny Tristan has spoken of, but until then, she needed Galahad to get her off this rock safely.

“My apologies, Jyn. That was presumptive and rude of me, but please, we must hurry” he said and tucked his lightsaber out of sight.

They departed down the darkest back alley they could find hoping the shadows would obscure their flight.

“Where to?” Jyn asked when she thought they were safe.

“To the seediest back alley bar there is where I will spend every credit I have on the first ship that will get us off planet before news of the reward money extends further than the spaceport.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

It was a plan, a good plan—not a great plan—but as Bors had said “in these troubled times, even a good plan is hard to come by.”

They walked on, but when they reached the dark underbelly that was supposed to offer them sanctuary, they ran afoul of a unit of Stormtroopers parked just outside the doorway.

“Run!” Galahad shouted using his lightsaber to deflect blaster bolts as they fled, and run they did. They kept running, but every time they stopped there was a new, fresh set of Stormtroopers ready to pick up the pursuit.

The soldiers arrived with almost preternatural accuracy that began to make Galahad worry.

 **_They are tracking us. But how?_ ** he thought to himself.

But he knew how…

**_Me. They are tracking me through my connection to the Force._ **

That’s why they had so many close calls even before they reached this planet. As Galahad’s connection to the Force had strengthened, so too had his vulnerability to detection, and that meant only one thing: Vader.

Darth Vader was Palpatine’s mysterious and deadly apprentice. He was a Force user of considerable strength with no known pedigree or history prior to the extermination of the Jedi. It was almost like he was brought to life to do exactly that: end the Jedi Order forever.

Vader.

He was here on this planet coordinating the troop movement or the Imperials would not be able to react so quickly.

 **_And I will have to fight him if Jyn has any chance of making it to Rodia,_** Galahad realized and slowed to a stop.

“Jyn,” he whispered so softly that it surprised him when she stopped.

“What’s wrong, Gal?”

“I need a moment to think,” and to breathe, to put it more accurately. He finally understood what Tristan had meant by his destiny and choice. Today, he would either fight Vader or run away like a coward and probably die anyway when the Imperials finally caught up to them. There were no alternatives.

“Jyn, come here,” he called saying her name like it was an anchor.

Smart, observant Jyn hesitated. She sensed something was wrong with her own, limited Force sensitivities and only drew near when Galahad shot her that soft, pitiful pout he had used so often to bend Tristan to his whims. Then Galahad removed Tristan’s kyber crystal from around his neck and all the credits he had and pushed it all into Jyn’s hands.

“Take these and stick to the plan. Find a pilot who reminds you of either Bors or myself,” he instructed trusting in Jyn’s innate instincts and possible Force abilities to steer her towards someone reputable.

Jyn took both crystal and credits, but she did not look happy about it. “Where will you be?”

“Buying you time to get away. It’s me they’re after anyway,” he lied because he worried that Jyn would not leave if she thought they were in this together. “If I can, I will meet you on Rodia and offer the Rebels my services.”

Jyn was quiet for a moment. “And if not?”

“Then it has been an honor knowing you Jyn _Erso_ ,” he said with a sly wink.

Jyn betrayed no surprise that Galahad had ferreted out her real name. On the subject of her father, she possessed total control of her emotions having had years of practice.

“Go now,” Galahad ordered and sent her off.

When Jyn was out of sight, Galahad took his jacket off, sat down in the street, and closed his eyes to meditate before the fight. Through the Force he could sense the approaching Stormtroopers alongside another, stronger being, Vader. But Galahad turned away from those lifeforms, choosing instead to follow Jyn and the receding presence of the kyber crystal. Tristan would protect her now, for a little while at least.

It hurt knowing that he had willingly given up the last connection he had to his foregone lover. With every step Jyn took, the connection grew fainter. Soon it would snap entirely, once she had passed beyond the range of his abilities. The thought made him sick inside, but until the moment came, Galahad would hold onto Tristan's spirit with every fiber of his being.

Visions came to him in this meditative state—strange and horrible visions. The detail was immense and out of character for Galahad whose expertise was in combat and mechanics. Tristan had been the visionary, and Galahad suspected it was through him that he was able to receive these portents of the future.

Through the Force, he saw that Jyn would never make it off world but soon she would be rescued by the Rebels anyway. He saw a small moon that radiated incalculable evil and only belatedly realized that it was no moon at all as he witnessed the destruction of the Jedi Temple on Jedha. It was then he recognized the battle station as the terrifying results of Galen Erso’s research and wept for the galaxy.

He saw a sunset. He saw Jyn. He saw the weapon rising higher in the sky and felt a scream building in his throat. And beyond these nightmares, Galahad also heard the unmistakable patter of armored feet marching side by side.

Galahad did not move yet, but he readied his mental defenses and clung to his connection to the kyber crystal. Through the Force he probed at the impenetrable mind of Vader who moved like a storm cloud against Galahad's warrior spirit.

“Stand and fight, Jedi,” a low deep voice rasped, reminding Galahad of the former Separatist commander General Grievous.

“Darth Vader, I presume, but not your true name I suspect.” Galahad said and opened his eyes to take in the mechanical man—his would-be executioner. Something had always bothered him about the sudden appearance of this assassin, a theory he wanted to test. Why was there no record of him until Palpatine's ascension, no portents, and no prophecies? How had the Emperor managed to hide such a beast from the scrying eyes of the Jedi unless he hadn't been hiding at all? “Kind of you to give me a fighting chance instead of just ordering your men to fire upon me. Honorable too. Who were you before you became Palpatine's lapdog, Vader? I wonder. A former student? A friend? You cannot hide temple training, assassin. Believe me, I tried.”

By way of answer, Vader lit his lightsaber, which glowed a deep crimson red. It was the color of anger and blood and it suited him as well as that long flowing cape.

Galahad stood and lit his own lightsaber, a deep green blade like the forests of Kashyyk, the Wookie, homeworld where Galahad had trained extensively under the guidance of Master Tyvokka as a young man. Galahad understood both the structure and passion of violence better than almost anyone.  Coming into his powers on that warlike planet was perhaps why he’d grown into the warrior he was instead of a healer or pilot. But his studies among the Wookiees had also given him the tools he had needed keep his heart pure and eyes clear of the dark temptations that were ever present when perpetrating an act of violence against another.

He understood violence. Hatred. Loss.

He understood them all or thought he had _until now._

The emotions and twisted energy that radiated off Vader were powerful and defied categorization. Galahad wondered how the soldiers flanking him could stand so near and not feel it. But perhaps they did? Perhaps even now they were sweating on in their boots while waiting for orders. If not for his connection to Tristan’s lightsaber core and the visions which continued to play in the background of his thoughts—although dimmer now—kept him distracted enough from becoming too anxious himself in Vader’s presence.

They each waited for the other to attack. They might have waited all day, but Vader’s patience eventually gave out as Galahad knew it must.

Vader attacked but Galahad met his blade and turned it away. Then Galahad was pressing the offensive, but he was rebuffed in turn with the studied precision of a Temple trained Jedi Master. They traded blows back and forth—Galahad just barely managing to fend of Vader’s attacks whose natural power was enhanced by his mechanical body. Both sides of the Force flowed through them, around them, inside them, and the resulting tincture of energies further distorted the images that flickered behind Galahad’s eyes in the spaces between thrusts and parries.

CRACK!!! The two blades slammed together and for one split second, drowned out all other ambient noise.

_In the future, a young boy flew his first mission against the dreaded space station: strong in the Force, weak in spirit, and burdened by troubling ambition._

_In the past, a woman with sad brown eyes looked out her bedroom window towards the Jedi temple and worried about a love she had not seen in many months._

Galahad stumbled and only kept his head on his shoulders by rolling away from the crimson blade. Before he had even gotten back to his feet, Vader was charging again, but Galahad surprised his opponent by quick drawing his blaster with his free hand and firing a bolt at him.

_In the future, the same young man, a Jedi in name only, prepared to give his life for a father he’d never known and a cause that was certainly doomed._

_In the past, Palpatine fumed at his reflection, at the deep scarring that had irreparably ruined his face, and swore vengeance on every living Jedi._

The blaster bolt hit Vader square in the chest. He paused and placed a gloved hand over his armored breastplate—where his heart might have been. “Impressive, most impressive, Jedi, and even a little deceitful. I approve.”

“My heart is pure and my intentions are noble. You will not succeed in unbalancing me with such petty insults, assassin.”

“So this is how you choose to die?”

Galahad smiled. _Today you will be given a choice. You must choose how to live. I cannot tell you more._ Those were the word Tristan had left him with and now he finally understood. “No, it’s how I choose to live— ** _as a Jedi.”_ **

_In the future, the boy cast aside his lightsaber for love and mercy and in doing so, picked up the true mantle of a Jedi Knight—the last of its kind._

_In the past, Anakin Skywalker lay at the feet of his former master burning alive for his crimes of passion. Anakin Skywalker….Anakin...his friend._

“NOOOO!” Galahad screamed and scrambled away from the long reach of Darth Vader. Now, he understood the whole terrible truth.

 **_Tristan, why didn't you tell me?_ ** But Tristan was either too far gone or unwilling to answer.

“Oh, Anakin, what has become of you?.”

Vader paused momentarily shaken. “Anakin Skywalker is dead.”

It was true, in a sense. Galahad could find no trace of his former friend and classmate, only grief that ran as deep as the oceans on Mon Cal. It was indeed as terrible as Tristan had warned, and worse, it was like looking into a mirror. This is what he might have become if not for the intercession of Jyn, Bors, and Tristan.

“Who did you lose, Anakin? Tell me!” Galahad pleaded hoping against hope that there might still be a way to save his friend as he had been saved.

The ventilator made the growl that tore loose from Anakin’s throat sound deeper and more caustic. It sounded like the roar of a starship as it blasted off into the atmosphere and it struck Galahad with about as much force. All parity between the two fighters disappeared as the full force of Anakin's grief and anger was brought to bear. His hate made him powerful, more powerful than Galahad could have imagined, having never faced a Sith Lord before. And all the while, Galahad grew weaker the further he got from the comforting force of Tristan’s spirit.

The visions came now only in dim flashes. It would not be long now before his connection to Tristan's crystal—no…Jyn’s crystal now—was gone. Galahad had known that this was the end the moment he’d placed the lightsaber core back into Jyn’s hands. After today, Tristan’s spirit would be free to move on and truly dwell within the Force at long last. Galahad had been saved from his fallen state, and Jyn, who would reach the Rebels eventually, had been spared from the hands of Anakin...no, Darth Vader--a Sith Lord strong enough in the Dark Side of the Force to distort destinies.

“You are weak, Jedi. Weaker than all the others. Weaker than that halfwit, Tristan, when I killed him.”

Galahad’s chest was heaving. He was dangerously exhausted but not enough to fall for Vader’s bait. “You didn't kill Tristan, Anakin, but that you thought to name him only confirms that I am right about your identity, my friend. You were on Mustafar fighting your own battle when Tristan fell.”

“Liar! You could not possibly know that.”

“Not impossible with the Force as my ally. Let me help you, Anakin! I understand how bad it must hurt. Believe me, I understand! You know what Tristan meant to me.”

Vader became very still, like a stone. But was he actually listening? Or plotting his next attack?

“You helped me sneak away from duties to be with him more times than I can ever repay.”

Suddenly, Vader turned and began to attack his own men. It was horrific and unhinged, and it was over before Galahad could move to stop him.

“You did that, Jedi! Their lives are on your hands. Choose your words more carefully next time.”

Galahad shook his head in both horror and denial. “You have only yourself to blame, Anakin. It didn't have to end like this.”

"But it does have to end. Come. Fight me.”

Borrowing from the future, Galahad dropped his lightsaber onto the ground at Anakin’s feet. “No, I will not fight you, and you will be forced to destroy me.”

“Then that is your destiny.” Vader said, which made Galahad smirk. Years from now he would say those same words to his son and hesitate remembering this day.

Vader approached, but Galahad did not move to defend himself.

_In the future, Anakin whispered his final request to his son though the choice will cost him his life._

_“Tell your sister, Luke, you were right. You were right about me.” He died with a heart bursting with love and remorse, but he died as a man and not a monster._

And in the present...

Galahad reached out through the Force and found the small bright pinprick of warmth that was Tristan’s spirit and made his own choice. He quieted his mind, his heart, and gave himself over to it fully. If he was to die today then he wanted to die before their connection was permanently severed. He wanted to die at Tristan's side like he did not get to do on Ryloth.

 **_You were right about me too, Tristan. You were right about everything,_** the thought was meant for his lover but Galahad broadcasted the feeling widely for Anakin’s benefit. Let him experience love again, however briefly. It would be years before he experienced another tender thought. **_Let this be my final gift to you, Anakin._ **

Vader howled like a feral beast drawing anything but comfort from the gesture and raised his blade. He brought it down like a sledgehammer and burned through Galahad's body with a single stroke...

* * *

 

_In the past..._

“We can't,” Galahad murmured anxiously as he and Tristan hid in the shadows behind a column in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. “It isn't allowed.”

If anything, Tristan only pressed up against Galahad more firmly. “Why?” he said and covered Galahad's mouth with a kiss when it looked like Galahad was about to answer his rhetorical question. “Because some old fools decided to standardize the hearts and minds of all future generations of Jedi? It is not love that corrupts the spirit, pup. Hatred and fear are the tools of the Dark Side, but love belongs to all.”

“Do you speak to Master Yoda with that mouth, you lunatic?” Galahad grinned.

Tristan frowned and pinched Galahad through his robes. “If we taught our younglings and padawans not to fear attachments but instead how to welcome them into their lives, learn from the experiences, and then let them go, we would be stronger and more complete defenders of the galaxy. And quite a bit less testy, I’d add.”

“Or you’re just saying this because you haven't been properly kissed in a month,” Galahad smirked and wrapped his arms around Tristan's neck.

“I'm saying it because I love you, Gal, and I always will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading everyone and may the Force be with you! If you would like to help me boost the signal, here are the links to [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Red5WritingBy/status/950450035732475905) and [Tumblr](http://redfivewritingby.tumblr.com/post/169473666897/completed-through-the-force-youll-find-me-chp).

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you would like to help boost the signal, here are the links to [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Red5WritingBy/status/948290664890093568) and [Tumblr.](http://redfivewritingby.tumblr.com/post/169236466492/through-the-force-youll-find-me-chp-4-choices)


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